


Young Prince of Serkonos

by Leemi



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Freeform, Gen, Kallisarr is marked, Lots of it, More tags will be added later, and old, dont expect happy endings, irregular updates, so there will be angst, this is my coping mechanism, young Daud growing up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-05 09:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leemi/pseuds/Leemi
Summary: Before he was Daud  he was no one, growing up at various Serkonos cities. Then he chose to mess with a wrong person and his whole life changed. Maybe for better, maybe for worse...





	1. Daud of Serkonos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, excuse any mistakes i might have wrote as it still not proof-read.  
> Also i am still not sure if i should continue with the story as Return of Daud will be out shortly and it might have some additional lore about him which i am totally making up right now...

Daud hated the heat of Cullero. It was everywhere leaving you no chance to escape it. It crawled through windows, roofs and even thick stone walls, clinging tightly to skin and never letting you go. He growled silently and wiped his forehead with a damp cloth in futile attempt to somehow ease the feeling of being burned alive and continued to watch scene in front of him on a stage. There was a traveling troupe of actors, playing some latest hit with the people. Something about debauchery, betrayal and mixed with political satire. Just the thing that people loved. Later he would find out that it was The Royal Troupe itself, but he couldn't give a bigger shit. About them or the play. The fact that he was standing there, seemingly watching the actors was just a complete coincidence. He was on a hunt. Hunt which lead him here. He focused his attention back to his target standing right in front of him. More specifically on a pouch hanging from a silver chain down his hip. 

He followed him since morning from one market stall to another and was still yet to finish the task he set on. And now he cursed himself for it. With the sun already high on the sky he could feel leather pants slowly blistering the skin underneath and the fact he was wearing long sleeved shirt with gloves to hide his knife didn't help either. He growled silently and shifted to find more comfortable position to stand. Originally he wanted to wait till the play was over, but holding on for that long could prove fatal to his suffering head and skin.

Thus he had no choice than to act immediately. The boy scooted slightly closer to the older man, still watching him and his surrounding intently. He absorbed every movement, every glance at his way, every surprised gasp of the audience. And...NOW. The king found his wife in flagranti with her hand-maiden, everyone's eyes were glued to the stage. His hand quickly shot forward, seizing the pouch lightly, cutting a small hole into it and let the coins fall into his open hand.

****

Escaping through crowded streets was proven to be easy enough. Daud was never lucky enough to be counted among tall children, but thanks to that he was barely visible between masses of people, all rushing somewhere. His mother used to say that he will probably stay like that. Daud hated her for it. She was also partly the reason he started to pick-pocket, even though he didn't have to. He just wanted to prove that even though he was short, he could make it to use at least. Maybe to his mother, maybe to himself...that wasn't really important to him. 

Son of a witch they called him. He would smirk and told them that he, at least, wasn't son of a bitch, and braced himself for a beating that always followed. Sometime he won...most of the times he didn't. Mother would ask him about the wounds and bruises and he would lie. It was almost daily routine. When he finally left this Outsider-forsaken island he would barely remember her face. Or voice. There were however two things that stuck with him for the rest of his life like a black tar. First thing was her cold piercing gray eyes, always staring at him like they would strip him down to his soul. The second were her favourite words: "Never make enemy out of a witch.“ Of course his mother said lot of stuff, but this particular sentence he took to his heart. It seemed too ominous, that it simply felt foolish not doing so.

Another possible reason he ran through the city with another man's wallet was that he always wanted to be a pirate. Pirates were thieves too, right? At evenings he used to read stories about them and about the sea. Sometime he would even persuaded his mother to read for him. It was the sea that fascinated him the most. Vast, never-ending mass of water surrounding The Isles. Dangerous and unpredictable. They said he was born on a ship, and he believed those tales. Even if it wasn't true, he liked the idea of it. The idea of being born in "no-man's land“, he belonged nowhere and to anyone. He was his own master.

Finally after quick run around the city to loose anyone possibly following off his trail he stopped in a narrow alley just above the city's port and opened clenched fist where he was hiding his loot. Golden coins were shining against him under the merciless sun, covered in sweat. He exhaled and let himself to calm down his breath before he started meticulously counting them. Tourists made the best victims. They were naive, always looking around and not at their wallets and of course carrying big sums of money in them. Not like the locals. And they were also dumb enough for him to get away with it safely. He smirked. Maybe he hated the heat of Cullero but the city was packed with the tourists thorough all year thanks to its status of popular destination of travels of nobility. It had made it perfect for numerous small gangs and thieves. 

"I believe you have something that is mine..well few things actually“ Daud violently jerked his head to the source of the voice and instantly hid hands behind his back. Was he followed? No, that was impossible, he made sure to check. Nevertheless there he was. His target was leaning against a brick wall with lazy smirk on his face like nothing happened. Boy involuntarily stepped backwards, eyeing the stranger suspiciously, but he didn't seem to be armed. He couldn't really tell.  
"I... have no idea what are you talking about“ he finally managed to speak, but his voice sounded weak. Unconvincing. A consequence of being outside for too long without proper hydration and then the run across the streets. He made a mental note not to repeat that mistake in the future. If...he could get away of course.   
"I have put a minor tracking spell on the one coin, you know. There's no use to be lying.“ the man shook his head and shifted slightly taking few steps forward in his direction. 

Daud frowned, thinking quickly. He could start to run. But he said something about a tracking spell...? He could just get rid of the coins and then run. He was quick and knew the city more than the man so he had fair chance of escaping. But then, his target got here also quickly. Too quickly for his advanced age. His head started to feel light. Sun was at its peak and he could hear clanking of metal. A warning sound of approaching guard patrol.  
"Come on, boy. Don't be foolish. Just give me back my money and we will forget about it ok? You have my word for it.“ He mocked a slight bow. "A word of Kallisarr Aminev of Tyvia.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update: corrected most of the spelling mistakes and typos. should be more readable now...


	2. Don't Fuck With Wrong People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still un-betad and will probably rewrite it slightly but hey...i'm writing again. or something

"Kallisarr. Of Tyvia...“ Daud eyed him sceptically. "...really.“ Of course he has heard and read about legendary exploits of famous (or rather infamous at some circles) Prince of Tyvia. But this man... didn't look like anything at all, if said nicely. Once majestic mane on his head almost disappeared due to receding hairline. It was no longer of colour of freshly picked chestnuts or mahogany. It no longer shone. Chestnuts changed into snow. More specifically powder of snow. His face looked more tired than energetic and seductive. It was mostly covered in wrinkles now, making his skin look like a soil during a drought. His once proud figure was also lost under wheels of time. And not even a black blouse with a vest (unfortunate choice of garment given the current weather noted Daud) couldn't his somehow larger belly. This man simply couldn't be the Tyvian prince.

"What's with that face boy? Lost your voice after finally meeting the stuff of legends?“ He smirked slightly and his voice had the exact same cocky, self-confident tone you would expect from the man of his reputation.  
"But...you're old. And fat.“ Daud mumbled uncertainly, money still clenched in his hand. Metal clanks were gettin closer. "Kallisarr“ meanwhile looked at him visibly surprised with eyebrows so raised they almost disappeared into his hairline. And then, much to Daud's amazement, threw his head back and started to laugh loudly. The whole situation became almost surrealistic. An young thief whose pure instinct screamed at him to run away quickly, but his body wouldn't listen so he just stand there frozen in shock by the sudden outburst of his victim. Hunter became a prey. Then there was danger drawing near in the form of guard patrol. If it was a evening or night instead of noon, whole scene would look like a painting.

"That's...you're right I suppose,“ he finally managed to squeeze out between chuckles, wiping tears from his eyes. "but age is merciless to everyone, boy.“  
And in that moment the patrol just reached the alley. Their metal plates echoing across the walls. Daud froze yet again and looked nervously at the old men, then at the patrol, then back at him. His hands still behind his back gently reached the knife under his sleeve. Just a comforting swipe across the blade. As it would help somehow. As it the boy could easily defeat three heavily armed men and one...mystery. He will surely call them to his side. Daud will not have even slightest chance. They will arrest him. In better case. Any time now...

His mind raced as he tried to think of possible ways to escape, his eyes darting around quickly. Mother will surely kill him. No. She will get someone to do it for her. And then she will pretend he never existed in a first place. „Kallisarr“ raised his hand and Daud prepared himself, clutching the knife more tightly. There. The patrol was passed right around them and he just...waved at them as they continued their daily routine. Nothing happened. No whistles and shouting. This was the third time in less ten minutes he managed to surprised Daud.

Like he could read the boy's mind, the man winked at him and smirked. "You're probably asking yourself: 'Why he let me go? He just could have called those guards and get that money finally. Why didn't he do that?'“ He reached into his inner pocket slowly enough so Daud could see he was not drawing a weapon and took out slim silver case.   
"Well, why I didn't do it?“ he leaned against a wall again, taking out a cigarette from the case, watching him curiously.   
"There's something in you, boy. Something I like. You're not afraid to say what you want, despite the consequence. And no one managed to make me laugh like that in a long time“ Daud wasn't sure what to say or do. So he said and done nothing. Only watched, his face unmoving, and let him continue uninterrupted. He looked like the type that likes to talk just to hear his own voice anyway.

"Yes, yes. You were right. I'm fat and old. But you're also the only one with enough courage to say that to me.“ He took a lighter from the same pocket and lit the cigarette in one, almost fluid motion. "So, what's your name, boy?“  
"....Daud. It's Daud.“ Daud was the name of his favourite pirate.  
"And how old are you?“  
"Sixteen.“ He was thirteen. If he didn't believe him, he didn't react at all.  
"Alright then. Tell me, Daud, why do you steal? Judging by your clothes, I don't think you really need it. Or are you kleptomaniac?“  
"Klepto...what?“  
"Kleptomaniac. Someone who really loves to steal. And can't help himself“  
Daud nodded, repeating the word in his head in order to remember it, letting it roll of his tongue wordlessly. Kleptomaniac. Kleptomaniac. Someone who loves to steal. "Well, judging by your clothes I wouldn't say you're a prince, but here we go.“ Kallisarr (or so he said) frowned and for a moment Daud thought that he went too far. That he touched some sensitive subject. But he just snorted and shrugged.  
"Do you know what incognito means?“  
That he knew so he nodded. Mother's clients often traveled to seek her services incognito. Incognito. To have your identity concealed. Now it made sense why he looked more like a washed-up spice merchant than a prince.  
"Then there you go. I travel incognito. But, boy, you haven't answered my question yet.“  
"I don't.“  
"Don't what?“  
"Need it.“  
"By the Outsider's shaved beard, boy. Even my dogs talk more than you,“ he growled irritated, gripping his cigarette tightly, almost crushing it between his fingers.  
"Mother always says that those who talk a lot only do so in order to hide the fact there's nothing in their heads.“  
To that Kallisarr finally relaxed and snorted. "Your mom is a wise woman. You should listen to her more. Outsider forbid people would think you're stupid. No, no...“ he shook his head, "you're clever. Extraordinary clever at dodging questions.“  
Daud sighed and shrugged, still not moving from his spot. What should he say? He didn't know why he continued with his pick-pocket career. "To...uhm...defy the system.“ It was something Mr. Crowley, mother's frequent client like to say a lot. Daud didn't really like him. He sounded as fake as his name.

Kallisarr blinked in surprise. "Well, that was something I wouldn't expect to hear from a child.“ he added in badly hidden amusement.  
"I'm sixteen already. Not a child.“  
"Boy, if you're sixteen then I'm the Empress of the Isles.“  
Daud feigned shock and bowed deeply. "My apologies, your highness. I didn't recognized you at all, under...all that.“  
"I think I will call the guards after all. No one likes smartasses,“ he growled silently, still watching him curiously, "then tell me, kid, why do you defy the system?“  
"Because it's broken.“  
"And why exactly it's broken?“ By now, it was clear he was just testing him. To see if he actually had something to say or if he was blatantly improvising. Luckily, Daud was prepared even for that. He has heard Mr. Crowley's speeches for enough times, that he could easily quote him word to word.   
"It gives power to only few privileged people. Rich people, who have enough money to obtain a status. You don't see the working class deciding about their fates. It's the upper class, who mostly doesn't really care about them. That's why we need a change! All people should decide for themselves. To be part of ruling the country. Did you know that there are countries across the sea where people actually vote their leaders? We need similar system for our people too.“ He smirked, looking at him triumphantly. There's your answer, satisfied? 

But it didn't look so. Kallisarr went silent for a while, dragging smoke from his cigarette. When he finally talked, the amusement in his voice changed to something mocking. "That was really nice speech, boy, but... How exactly does stealing help you to achieve that? Because it sounds to me like you're just pulling up shit from your arse.“  
"It-it doesn't. It just...helps me. To feel better about it.“   
"So by doing that you're being just as rotten as the system, aren't you? If you really cared about the people, you would hardly pick pockets of unaware travelers, but at least pockets of some highly ranking official. The fact you didn't know who I was also proves that you don't even know identity of your targets, so the bigger wallet is more important to you probably. Also you said you steal in order to defy it but then that it helps you feel better? Make up your mind, kid.“ In mere seconds he tore down his broken logic to shreds and pushed away from the wall he was leaning against, walking closer to him, dropping the cigarette on the ground and stomping on it. "You are clever. That is true. But you are a bad liar.“

There was something in his eyes now. Something darker. Back of his hand shone brightly for a moment. Did Daud imagine it or it got colder? Or it was his sweat dripping down his back? Everything screamed at him to run away finally. Just drop the money and run. So he did. Or at least wanted to, but body didn't listen to him. His feet stayed glued to the ground. He struggled but he was literally being kept to place by something. Or someone. He stared at Kallisarr hatefully. "What have you done to me?“  
"What do you mean?“ he crossed his eyes and smirked, standing now in front of him.  
"Y-you!“ he snarled, still struggling to move. "Let me go! Now.“  
Kallisarr was now only few inches apart, looming over him. "I'm just giving you a valuable life lesson, Daud of Serkonos who tries to defy the system. Don't try to fuck with the wrong people. Always be above the situation. And never, never allow yourself to be trapped.“ He poked his forehead and just walked by past him, disappearing behind the corner which Daud couldn’t see, because he was still frozen in place on verge of tears. But there was one thing he noticed. He still had money in his hands.


	3. About a boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one day i will proof-read my texts. but today is not the day...

It took another two hours before Daud stopped doing the imitation of a statue (which was to say great, even better than what would street artist manage) and could finally move again. The remnants of the spell, or whatever it was, completely disappeared. And his legs stopped working altogether. He instantly went down on his knees, shaking uncontrollably and wheezing slightly, feeling every muscle in his body suddenly relax after being frozen for so long. And not just muscles. He could sense acidic liquid forcing his way from stomach up his throat and he heaved heavily. Wet splash on the warm cobblestone resonated through the empty alley (surprisingly enough since the city was always so lively, but this was the reason he chose this place. Not many people passed through here, apart from occasional patrols. It wasn't a good place), following by few more, until he just retched and coughed, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable aftertaste on his tongue. His whole body trembled and he could feel tears watering his eyes, slowly reaching his cheeks and chin, dripping on the ground into the fresh puddle of vomit. 

This wasn't how he imagined today's events would go. Not at all. He was supposed to be home by now, enjoying it's pleasant shade. He would borrow some book from mother's collection and read. And not...get completely humiliated by a parody of a royalty. He was still trembling, but now because of anger, not exhaustion. He glanced at coins, which he dropped when he fell, scattered around him and grabbed them in blind fury, throwing them against the wall with violent high pitched, like all boys around his age have, scream. As if the wall was embodiment of everything bad that has happened to him. That wasn't however the case, so the money just fell down again, the wall standing unharmed by the aggression. 

He gritted his teeth and grabbed his knee to push his weight against it, rising carefully. No, he won't let himself to succumb to anger or fear. He needs to clear his mind and get himself together. This was, however, easier to say than done. Even though the sun was already beyond its peak, standing for more than two hours in this scorching weather was taking its toll. His head buzzed unpleasantly and tongue was glued to the palate. For a moment, before he could even stand up completely, world around Daud spun and went white. His hands blindly reached out for any means of support until he leaned against brick surface of the same wall which was victim of his outburst just a while ago, waiting till the pounding in his head stopped completely, or at least withdrew enough he could perform simple tasks. Like walking properly without looking like drunk. Or be able to see. That would be nice. 

Mother showed him a trick for calming himself once. It was after particularly disturbing nightmare when he had even problems to breathe normally. He just wheezed hopelessly, clutching fabric of mother's sleeping gown. She gently took his hand into hers and opened it, drawing slight circles on the palm with her finger. 'Focus on your palm, there, do you feel how blood in your fingertips? Focus on that. Now close it,' she gently closed his hand into fist, 'and open, good. And now repeat it few more times by yourself. Focus your breathing into that...see? Just like that...' The grip on her sleeve was slowly loosed as the boy regained his composure little by little. She smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. It never did.  
'There you go. It's better isn't it?' She straightened her blouse where his little hands crumpled it and stood up. 'Go back to sleep. Good night, sweetheart.' With that, she left. Daud already knew from another sleepless nights that begging her to stay or calling after her would simply not work. But even now he still was fighting urge to reach out for her...

 

That was about five years ago. Now, in empty passageway above the port he has no one to hold or lean against. But he's not a child anymore. He doesn't need to hide behind mother's skirt every time something goes wrong. Scratch of the rough brick wall surface on his fingertips brings him back to present. Only mother's words echoes in his mind like a long forgotten lullaby, which you suddenly remember perfectly and don't know how. 

He reached out with his hand against the sun, shadowing the orb completely. He blinked to get rid of the white spots even for a while and studied it closely. Fingers, every line that extended across the sweaty palm. Apparently, some people claimed they were able to read your fortune from them. Mother always scoffed at them. Charlatans she called them. Charlatan. Someone who tricks others for his own gain. Like him. Except for the tricking part. He was just a simple thief. The Prince's words were still leaving vile aftertaste in his head. He clenched his fist tightly, quickly looking away since the sun appeared again from behind the cover of his hand, as it was waiting for that moment. Nails were leaving stinging pain and Daud would have undoubtedly crescent red marks on his palm for a while. He focused on it. On the pain and thumping of the pulse. One. Two. Three... he slowly counted with the pace of his breath, opening and closing his hand few more times. Until the white spots dispersed completely along with the unpleasant buzzing sound in his ears. 

 

He inhaled in relief and gently shook his head. It was still spinning, luckily on to that extend that Daud could actually walk without wobbling. When he was turning around to finally get back home, light reflecting from the scattered coins hit his eyes. He stopped quickly glancing on the pavement, graciously looking over remnants of his breakfast. The gold was mocking him. Light sliding across the shiny material. Winking. Screaming at him to go and take it. After all he got into all that trouble because of it, so there was no harm in not walking away with empty hands, right? As if the wannabe prince took pity on him and just left it there for him. 

Daud frowned, crouching to examine one coin closely. If it actually had spell on it, he couldn't find it. Maybe he was just lying, he theorized. It was just a ruse to make him feel paranoid. But on the other hand, he had powers. Real powers. Of that was Daud sure now. He shivered involuntary despite the heat, still feeling tension in his muscles. He didn’t like loosing. Even to adults. Especially in his own game. It made him feel weak. He hated it. 

But maybe, there was a voice in a corner of his mind which was and wasn't his, just maybe there still could be way to reverse it completely. To beat him back. After all, he knows with whom he's dealing with now. And will be prepared next time. And if the tracking spell exists after all...

His lips twitched and raised into something similar to smirk. In wasn’t pleasant smile. Or warm as for that matter. He knew what to do now. Yes, it made sense to him. So he reached down slowly grabbing handful of coins and stuffing them into his pockets, walking away. A faint whistling sound could be heard after a moment from behind the corner which he disappeared behind.

 

Kallisarr:  
Kallisarr was finishing his third glass of wine in an inn he was staying, rolling sweet liquid on his tongue. Wine was great. One of the reasons he always returned to Serkonos actually. Sure they had Tyvian Red back home, but apparently he could never appreciate the taste of it. Acquired taste or not. This why countries with harsher climate should never make any vineyards. Worse than piss if he should say so himself. He curled his lips in disdain and gulped down the rest of the drink. Yes, definitely better than Tyvian Red.

Alcohol was however no matter how good it was, just a perk. The real reason The Prince of Tyvia sought southern isles so often was because he hated cold. He despised it. It crept under your clothes, despite you wore already three layers, under your skin and bones. It made you feel like you will never feel warm in your life again. His homeland was famous for especially cruel winter. The irony was entirely lost on him. 

He grimaced slightly and clenched his left fist which was getting uncomfortably numb. This was why he didn't use the mark often. It always left cold, tingling sensation starting by the edges of the symbol, then creeping to his fingertips and slowly reaching into the whole hand, until it felt like a block of ice. And no alcohol or sitting by a fireplace seemed to help. He was sure it was that (handsome) black-eyed bastard's doing. He wouldn't be surprised if he and his twisted sense of humour made him into a joke of the century. Everyone, look at Kallisarr of Tyvia who cannot handle low temperatures, let's give him something really special. Ha, ha, ha....well, Kallisarr wasn't laughing at all.

He frowned and with impatient hand gesture ordered another drink. Alcohol may have failed to warm him up, but it never hurts to try. He massaged his palm again. He didn't even know why exactly he used his powers on that boy. He just did. Even before he realized what was he doing. Right after that brat (he even doubted Daud was his real name) put on that self-conceited smirk, going on with the speech about the system he surely just heard from someone else, Kallisarr just felt his fist clenching, symbol shivering against his skin. He just though he was being sooo awfully clever....which he was actually. Prince could recognize spark of intelligence when he saw one. And, by bloody Outsider, that boy had more in his head than he was aware of. 

He kinda reminded him of himself when he was young. Cocky, arrogant, thinking he knows better than anyone else. It pissed him off for some reason. It was like looking at a version of yourself you desperately tried to forgot. He sighed and brushed through his sparse hair. He overreacted. Again. This is what has become of him. Kallisarr of Tyvia, terror of taverns and brothels, bully of young children. Quite the difference from his reputation of famous lad(y)-killer.

Was that boy still standing there? He didn't really know. Duration of the spell always varied from time to time. It was already about three hours so chances were high that he had gone home. But if he didn't... Son was scorching today. And the boy could be still frozen there. Without water. Or proper shadow. Oh, Maker...maybe he really fucked up this time. No. No maybe. Definite statement. He cursed under his breath and reached into a secret pocket where he kept most of his money, throwing some coins on the table, not bothering to check if it covered all expanses and hurried out of the inn.


End file.
